


One more cup of coffee 'fore I go.

by sas



Series: Femslash February Prompts [3]
Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Arguing, F/F, Legal Intern!Lila Stanguard, Misunderstandings, Rebecca being obtuse, Wes being a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3457700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sas/pseuds/sas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>queerfordormer asked: LilaxRebecca coffee shop?</p><p>One of my Femslash February prompts</p>
            </blockquote>





	One more cup of coffee 'fore I go.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've never heard Bob Dylan's "One More Cup of Coffee", please do that right now. We'll wait.
> 
> Okay. This is an AU, so none of that murder carry-on is happening or going to happen in this timeline.

Rebecca rolls her eyes when she sees her pushing the door of the shop open. As usual, the shop is almost empty when Red comes in, and it only takes a minute for her to get to the top of the queue. As usual, she puts her handbag on the counter and looks up at the menu-boards. Rebecca finds this to be her most frustrating habit, as she always orders the same thing.

“What can I get you?” Her voice sounds bored, even to herself.

Red doesn’t remove her eyes from the menu-board as she speaks, and that only irritates Rebecca further.

“Can I get a tall double-shot soy cappuccino, with really hot milk; a tall caramel macchiato with two pumps of vanilla instead of one; a flat white with an extra shot; a grande mango-passion fruit blend; a tall mocha with half white chocolate, half plain chocolate, and skim milk, no whip; and five lemon poppy muffins?”

Rebecca nods sharply and gets to work. She doesn’t bother asking the girl’s name, she knows. Lila has been in the shop at the same time every day for the last three weeks, always with the same request, always avoiding eye-contact (or general manners, Rebecca notes). She packs up the muffins, and puts all the prepared drinks into a carrier tray. Lila grabs them quickly, mumbles a ‘thank you’ and dashes out of the shop.

Rebecca tries not to let the rudeness affect her mood for the rest of her shift, but she fails miserably.

When Wes comes in for his shift, he takes one look at the stony expression on her face and sighs. “Red got you all hot and bothered again?”

“’Hot and bothered’? As if.”

“But she has annoyed you.” It’s not a question.

“She’s just so rude. Like she hasn’t got time to look me in the eye or greet me at all.”

“You’re not really a ball of sunshine yourself, most of the time.”

“I’m perfectly polite.”

He squeezes her shoulders as he slips passed her to the till. “Yep, perfectly. But you’re not exactly… personable. You might make better headway—”

“Headway? I don’t want to be her friend, Wes. I just want her to treat me like a human being, not a robot who does her bidding.”

Wes nods at her, a smug look on his face.

“You’re the worst,” she sighs dramatically.

“Yep, but you love me. Now get out of here before you scare off all my customers.”

Rebecca throws her apron under the counter and scoffs.

“See you tomorrow, loser.”

* * *

Rebecca is reading, toking absent-mindedly on a joint, when Wes texts her.

_Your girl is in here, sitting at a table at the back.  
I think she’s crying?_

Rebecca checks the time. It’s seven thirty. She has never known Lila to be in the cafe that late. She quickly taps out a response.

_1\. shes not my girl, 2. shes probably crying coz  
she broke a nail or whatever_

It sounds harsh, she knows, but she would be lying if shewas to say that she wasn’t still a little annoyed. It’s not like it was Rebecca’s problem that the girl was crying, anyway.

That didn’t stop her from thinking about it for the rest of the night.

* * *

The next day, Lila comes in as usual. As subtly as she can, Rebecca searches her face for some sign of distress, some clue as to why she had spent her evening sitting in the back of a Starbucks, crying. Lila, for all the world, looks just as checked out as she normally does, if not a little drained.

“Morning,” Rebecca attempts.

In response, Lila rattles off her order, eyes glued to the wall behind Rebecca’s head. Rebecca rolls her eyes, hard.

When Lila picks up the order at the other end of the counter, she sighs, “thanks Rebecca.” Her tone is airy, but distracted, and she leaves without acknowledging the quizzical look on the barista’s face.

Later, when Wes points out that Rebecca, like all of the employees, wears a badge with her name on it, Rebecca scoffs.

“But why would she use it? She can’t even look me in the eye but she can call me by my first name?”

“Are you seriously angry about this?”

Rebecca’s response is a glare.

“Rebecca. Listen to yourself. You are angry because a customer who you complain never acknowledges your existence just acknowledged your existence.”

“That’s not… It was the way she did it, okay?”

Wes’ lips purse and he shakes his head, turning towards the customer at the counter. Rebecca sighs and leaves.

* * *

Rebecca is already out of bed and dressed when she realises that it’s Friday. She had arranged to switch shifts with Wes because he had some law-school thing to do that evening. She promptly crawls back into bed, pulling the covers over her head and falling back asleep almost immediately. When she wakes again, she finds that she only has twenty minutes to get to work. She has a feeling that today will not be kind to her.

She arrives at work twenty-three minutes later, her face free of any make-up and her hair pulled back messily. Wes just looks at her and smiles.

“Shut up.”

“I think you look nice,” he smiles and it’s so genuine that it annoys Rebecca.

“Whatever. Sorry I’m late.”

“No problem. Red was in today,” his smile is more knowing as he pulls his apron off, “she looked similar. Tired and harried.”

“Like I care.”

“Mhm,” Wes nods, before waving his goodbye and exiting the cafe.

Rebecca rolls her eyes at his back, and gets to work. Morning shifts tend to be quiet, disregarding the morning rush. Evening shifts are far less forgiving, with a constant stream of custom. Rebecca isn’t sure whether or not she is happy about this fact, given her mood. However, before she knows it, the windows start to grow dark. When she checks the time, she realises it’s almost eight p.m.

When the bell above the door chimes, she doesn’t bother to look up. She continues to wipe down the counter until she sees somebody in front of her. She looks up and her eyes meet Lila’s. She swallows quickly, discards the rag in her hand and nods at her customer.

“How can I help you?” she aims for professional, but once again, sounds bored.

Lila is quiet for a moment. Rebecca studies her face. Her blue eyes are bloodshot, flickering around the room the way tired eyes do. Eventually, she sighs, “Just an Americano, please.”

Rebecca tries not to let this unusual show of manners throw her off. She goes about making the simple drink, setting down the mug at the opposite end of the bar.

A meek “thanks” passes Lila’s lips as she picks it up and makes her way to the back of the shop.

Rebecca tries to forget about her presence. When she hears soft sobs coming from the back, she can’t ignore it any more. She passes the counter and walks to Lila’s table. When Lila realises she’s standing there, she attempts to hide her tears.

“Could I have another one?” she hiccoughs.

“What, no half white, half plain mocha? Here’s me thinking you had some medical need for criminal amounts of sugar.” Rebecca had been aiming for a joke, but it had come out sounding harsh and cold. She cringed, but made no verbal effort to correct her tone.

“No.” Lila’s face became cold and closed-off.

“Sorry, I was just—”

“You were just jumping to conclusions.”

“No, I wasn’t…”

“You don’t know me, but that doesn’t stop you rolling your eyes at me every time I walk in here like you’re better than me. You don’t know the first thing about me.”

A strangled noise rumbles from Rebecca’s throat, but no words come.

“You just assume I’m some, what? Frou frou sorority girl who goes out every day with a needlessly complicated coffee order just to piss off my barista? You never once decided to take into account that you work right smack-bang in the middle of a whole bunch of law firms and that the major bags under my eyes or my distracted mood could be because I’m working a seventy-hour-week internship at a legal slaughterhouse, and getting those needlessly complicated coffees is obviously the highpoint of my day because if I fuck it up even a little I’ll be piled with even more work,” a massive sob breaks over Lila, but she pushes it down and continues, “or be forced to stay with one of the partners who is a gross, leering old man who thinks it’s okay to grab the interns’ asses.”

“Dude, I just thought, you know, because you’re always avoiding eye contact and stuff…”

Lila stands abruptly, knocking her empty mug on its side. “I avoid eye contact because at any given minute I’m liable to break down in tears and it’s just easier to stay distanced and keep my head down and get shit done.”

When Rebecca regains some control of her body, she moves slowly to the chair opposite Lila and gingerly sits down.

“Why don’t you just quit? Any job that leaves you crying in a coffeeshop several days in a row is just not worth it.”

Lila, looking deflated, drops back down into her own chair. “I can’t,” she sniffs, “my parents would kill me. Plus, this kind of thing looks really good on Law School applications and I think I want to go to Law School after I finish my undergrad.”

“Sure, totally sounds like it’s worth your sanity.”

“That’s kind of irrelevant.”

Silence falls between them, and Rebecca can’t help herself from watching Lila. Tears have washed away a lot of her make up, and everything about her looks tired: the pale purple-grey skin, the pink eyes that droop, the brittle hair. Rebecca kicks herself for not noticing before, for being her usual, cutting self.She is overwhelmed with the urge to say something to make up for it, the urge to protect this girl she knows nothing about.

“How about that coffee? I have a whole stack of depositions to go through tonight.” Lila nudges her mug toward the barista, eyebrows raised.

Rebecca nods and leaves the table. When she returns, she has two mugs in her hands. Without a word, she sits back down.

“Are you not working?” There is an air of amusement in her voice this time, somewhat covering the exhaustion.

Rebecca laughs as she looks around at the empty cafe, “I’m sure all my other customers will understand.”

“How considerate,” she smiles, and all Rebecca can think is that she should never stop smiling. Her smile falters almost instantly when she brings her mug to her lips. “This isn’t coffee.”

“I know.”

“But I asked—”

“And I made the decision to not give it to you. I’m cutting you off.” Rebecca shrugged.

“But, I need it. I have so much work to do.”

“No. What you need is sleep. Hence the chamomile tea.”

“But—”

“Nope.”

“Rebecca—”

“No.”

“I can’t just not do it, I—”

“Yes, you can. Do it tomorrow. One day will not kill you.”

All Lila can do is sigh. She sits back in her chair and watches Rebecca for a moment as she blows softly into her own mug and takes a sip.

“I guess you’re right.”

“I usually am.”

Warm silence takes over again, both women drinking their tea. Lila is reading one of the large placards with information about the coffee used in all the drinks when Rebecca speaks again.

“I know a guy who could break his legs.”

Lila laughs, brightly. “What?”

Despite Lila’s laugh, Rebecca’s face is serious. She looks as though she is really considering it. “The old handsy guy. I could, you know, get someone to talk some sense into him.”

“I could never do that.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No, no. It’s just, you know, a side-effect of industry.”

“That’s bullshit, it shouldn’t be.”

Lila just shrugs again and turns her face away.

“I don’t want him upsetting you, or hurting you.”

“You don’t even know me.” Lila is smiling as she says it, but it’s a sad smile, worlds away from the one she had worn a few minutes before.

“Maybe I want to.”

* * *

When a marginally-more rested Lila breezes in the door the following day, she smiles at Rebecca. Rebecca slides five drinks, and a bag with five muffins across the counter.

When Lila raises her eyebrows in question, Rebecca says, “I thought I could save you some time.” Lila smiles gratefully, and leaves with a pledge to ‘see you later’.

Rebecca is already on her way back to the cafe when Wes texts her:

_Your girl is here, and asking about you.  
???_

Rebecca laughs and slips her phone back into the pocket of her jeans. She had gone home, showered and changed, and decided that the only way she would know if Lila had meant it when she said she would see her later was to go back to the cafe and see if she turned up.

When she entered, Wes nodded toward the table in the back, where Lila was bent over a notebook.

“Don’t,” Rebecca warns before he can question her. “Just give me an Americano.”

He obliges, and Rebecca makes her way over to the table.

“Uh, hi. Can I—can I sit here?” she asks, suddenly feeling awkward.

Lila looks up at her, and Rebecca feels some of the tension melt out of her when she sees her smile.

“Of course. It’s my turn, anyway.”

“Your turn?”

Lila smirks and waits for Rebecca to get settled before she says, “To make completely unfounded assumptions about you.”

“That’s not—I didn’t—”

Lila holds up a hand to stop her talking, before continuing.

“You wear that eye make up like armour, because you think it makes you look intimidating and it’ll stop people trying to talk to you. You probably pretend to read Nietzsche so you can seem smarter than everyone else sitting around the bong, and won’t listen to a band after they gain their fiftieth fan. And you’re probably pretty mean to people you have crushes on.”

“I do not wear it as an armour.”

“Sure.”

“I’m actually pretty eclectic, and I think music elitism is so stupid, for idiots really.”

“Oh, that’s better,” Lila laughs, “you’re elitist about elitism.”

“Fuck off,” Rebecca scoffs.

“See: mean.”

Rebecca chokes on her coffee. When the air finally gets back into her lungs, she forces out, “Are you assuming that I have a crush on you?” She knows her face is burning red, and she is painfully aware of every inch of her body.

“Do you?”

Rebecca tries to push down her panic, taking a slow sip of her coffee.

“You know, I actually find Nietzsche’s theories very interesting.”

Over Lila’s laugh, Rebecca hears Wes shout, “Knew it!”

**Author's Note:**

> You can come say hi, check things out, or send my prompts on
> 
> tepidwaterdialogues.tumblr.com


End file.
